


Between a Rock and a Hard Place

by Too_Many_Seeds



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:03:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds
Summary: Unforeseen circumstances result in Rook having to form an uneasy alliance with one of her greatest enemies, John Seed.





	1. Chapter 1

This was all John Seed’s fucking fault.

Rook huffed and tried to wriggle from her bonds; her hands tied firmly behind her back. It was rather difficult to try and get free, however, as her body was firmly pressed up against the youngest Seed brother. A county running amok with cultists and militia alike was an area rife for breeding miscreants, and a small group of such people had gotten the jump on Rook early that morning.

Even more unfortunately, they’d also recently nabbed John Seed as well. She wasn’t quite sure what they were planning to do with them yet - or if they even knew who she was - but they made no efforts to tell her before they unceremoniously dropped her into the car boot. She’d writhed furiously, kicking out and then realised that there’d been another person with her.

“Oh god, are you okay?” Rook had asked, unable to see very easily in the dark. “Did they hurt you?”

There was a long-suffering sigh which had made her frown, but before she was able to say anything, her new companion had spoken.

“Now this is just ironic,” the familiar voice of John Seed had drawled. Her eyes had widened and she’d prepared to scuttle backwards as much as she could, but the car had started and began to move; forcing her to slide forward and right against him.

They’d been stuck this way for over half an hour; both refusing to talk to the other as the floor of the boot had rumbled steadily underneath them. Every now and then, the sounds would change; becoming rougher and indicating that their driver had taken a back-road.

“They’re avoiding your road-blocks,” Rook muttered, and found herself torn over how she should feel about that. On one hand, she should be glad that she wasn’t going to be getting into more danger than she was already in, but on the other, the Peggies were enemies she knew and could predict. These men were a whole unknown territory and she couldn’t even formulate a proper plan.

“I am aware of that, Deputy,” John replied with just a trace of sarcasm. He sighed, tilting his head backwards and trying to ignore the feeling of the woman pressed against him. It was a position that he had most definitely thought of before - in the moments where he had succumbed to his weaknesses - but never in this sort of situation.

She huffed, renewing her struggles with her bonds, trying to loosen them just a smidgen for her smaller hands to slide free. It was a difficult thing to do when she was simultaneously trying to avoid getting any closer to the man she was sprawled up against. 

“I would advise you to stop moving,” John hissed through clenched teeth, adamantly staring at a spot in the roof. “Or there’s going to be a different situation on hand.”

Rook immediately froze, comprehending his warning quickly and feeling a flush of heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment. Her legs twitched backwards, though there wasn’t enough room for her to move away from him. 

“Oh, what the fuck?” She hissed, huffing at him. “Don’t you dare get hard from this, John Seed!”

“Keep moving like that and I won’t be able to help it,” he replied, frustration evident in his voice. “ **I hate being this close to you**  too, I’ll have you know.”  

She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please,” she said. “Says the man who ripped my shirt open and practically draped himself across me in his bunker.”

“I-I…that was for your tattoo!” He spluttered, aghast at the suggestion that he would defile his rituals for such a sinful and selfish purpose. “I couldn’t very well do it while you were covered up.”

Rook nodded, pretending to go along with this line of thinking.

“Okay, so your little creepy stares, then?” She asked, raising an eyebrow even though he probably couldn’t see it easily. “Don’t lie to me, you sad little man, I saw your eyes wander.”

He scoffed, but he didn’t immediately defend himself, which spoke rather loudly.

“Is that pride I detect, Deputy? You think yourself so irresistible?” John chuckled, leaning back as far as he could against the nearby wall of the boot.

“I don’t know; you tell me,” she replied sweetly, before growing tired of conversation. She huffed to indicate she was done before renewing her struggles with her bonds. She could tell they were made with some sort of tight rope, not a tie or anything similar, and so she was desperately holding onto the hope that she could snap them if she worked hard enough.

That plan was working perfectly until John Seed had to ruin it. Rook had been trying to hook her bound hands under one of her legs - brushing against his thigh rather noticeably - when she became very, painfully aware of a certain situation.

“ _Really_?” She groaned, trying to ignore the feeling of a very persistent Little John digging into her hip. “You seriously can’t control yourself?”

“It’s very difficult when a particular insufferable woman won’t stop gyrating against you,” he replied scathingly. “Honestly, what even are you trying to achieve?”

She couldn’t help but give a bark of laughter at his description of her movements.

“Who the fuck even says ‘gyrating’ anymore?” She shook her head and twisted her wrists; trying to limit her movements but also try to reach her back pocket. “And what do you think I’m trying to do? Logically? What would I, the elusive Deputy, be trying to do right now?  _Think_ , you wise man.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, dear,” he replied, unamused. “Do you even have a plan, Deputy? Or are you just improvising?”

She bit her lip, frowning through the dark boot at his shadowed chest in front of her. In this situation, their goals were surely aligned; they both were captives and they both wanted to get free. After that, however, she couldn’t be sure.

But perhaps this was a situation where she would have to swallow some of her pride.

She angled her head upwards, craning to reach closer to his ear and ignoring the brush of his beard against her neck as she went. She refused to even focus on how strangely pleasant it felt. 

“There’s a knife,” Rook murmured, trying to be conscious of her volume lest their attackers overhear. “In my back pocket, I mean. I’m trying to reach it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Ah. That explains it,” John said, and she wasn’t quite able to figure out what he was thinking. “You know.. _.I_  might have better luck.”

He…wasn’t wrong. From their proximity, she was able to tell that his hands had been bound in  _front_ of him, unlike hers. If she were able to manoeuvre herself appropriately, he would likely be able to reach into her pocket. There was obviously just one problem.

“You think I’m gonna trust you anywhere near a knife?” She said, lowering herself back down so that she was level with his chest again. 

“Do you have another idea? You need not fear, though. For the time being, our goals are aligned and we share a common foe.” His voice was smooth and in the darkness she could have sworn she saw the flash of his grin. “It is only  _after_ that you should worry.” 

She rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re not doing much to reassure me,” she said, but bit her lip all the same. Her efforts to reach the knife had been all in vain and it was apparent that the only way she would succeed were if she had assistance. Even if said assistance may proceed to use said knife against  _her._ Better than no knife at all, she decided. “Fine.”

He made a small humming sound, perhaps out of surprise that she had actually agreed, but said nothing else. She angled her neck away from him, trying to roll over, and grunted as she hit the boot wall. Without her hands to help, she was relying on jerking her hips to the side and rolling into the motion. 

John sighed, feeling what she was doing - especially in a certain, painfully attentive region - and reached forward with his hands to feel for her shoulder, determined to make this easier for  _both_ of them. He pushed forwards, and she made a small noise of triumph as she wiggled her hips; face now smushed up against the metal wall of the boot. 

“Left pocket,” Rook said, the sound somewhat muffled but still legible. 

 He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and moved his hands downwards in front of him in what little space was between them. She was deliberately pressing against the boot wall to try and make it easier, but it was still a tight fit. His fingers brushed at her back - her shirt hem having ridden up slightly - and she couldn’t stop herself from shivering at the feeling of his fingers against her bare skin. 

He moved further downwards, and she tried to ignore how her cheeks flushed as his hands felt around for her back pocket. They couldn’t really help the location of it, but having his touch  _there_ was strange, yet she wanted to slap herself for how it made a rush of heat go between her legs. Perfect. Now apparently he wasn’t the  _only_ one who couldn’t control themselves. 

Speaking of, Rook briefly couldn’t help but wonder how his situation was faring, considering how he was having to touch her. 

“Ah, there we go,” John murmured, finding her pocket and slipping his fingers underneath the seam. He found the small, folded knife at the bottom and pulled it up, clipping it open carefully and at a slightly awkward angle of his hands. 

She held her breath, wondering whether this was the moment he was going to stab her in the back -  _physically_. But after a moment’s silence, she felt the blade gnawing at her bonds, and in a few cuts, she felt them loosen. Hurriedly, she wriggled herself free and immediately began to turn around - unassisted now that she had her arms back in business. 

Squashed back up against him, she reached for his still-bound hands. 

“Your turn to trust me, John,” Rook said calmly, but she couldn’t resist flashing him a cheshire grin that he wouldn’t be able to see. “Give me the knife and I’ll cut you free.” 

He hummed, and she wondered if he was having the same feeling of hesitation that she had felt earlier; deliberating whether it was truly worth the risk. But he eventually came to the same conclusion as she had. 

“Very well,” he said, pushed the hilt of the blade into her nearest hand. “Be wise for once, Wrath.” 

She scoffed but said nothing, nicking the knife under his roped bindings and quickly cutting him free. He sighed as he flexed his fingers, internally rejoicing at his newfound freedom, and then cleared his throat. 

“So what is our game plan, my dear Deputy?” John asked, genuinely curious as to what she had in mind. 

“I only think there were about four of them, so we can take two each,” she muttered, half to herself and half to him. “Or well, if you can’t take them, I’ll improvise.” 

“I’m not the most experienced,” John admitted, and then his voice took on a slyer tone, “but I might be better equipped should I have the knife.” 

She sighed, knowing exactly that he was planning to take her down as soon as they had resolved this situation. But still, she supposed it meant less of a risk if he had the knife to use on their attackers. Besides, Rook’s speciality was hand-to-hand combat - she’d been mostly relying on it since this whole mess had broken out, after all - and she knew it wasn’t pride that told her she could take John, knife or no. 

“Fine,” Rook replied calmly, and she wondered whether he believed that he had achieved some sort of victory. “I’m going to turn back around so they won’t be able to see that we’ve gotten free. When they open the boot, we’ll attack.” 

She pushed the knife back into his hands and he grabbed it willingly and somewhat eagerly. 

“You’re being rather trusting, my dear,” he observed while she rolled herself back over; adamantly ignoring how she fit perfectly against him. 

She shrugged in answer, wriggling to make herself comfortable. 

“I’m not worried,” she said truthfully. “They’ll probably have guns I can take.” She chuckled softly, while they both prepared to wait for their attackers to stop the car and open the boot. “And when you decide to turn on me when this is over…maybe you’ll remember that you shouldn’t bring a knife to a gunfight.” 

Though, if she were being honest, John was  _exactly_ the sort of person who try that. And judging by his lack of denial, he probably knew it too. But he said nothing, and they waited in silence as temporary allies, waiting to pounce before they would be at each other’s throats once more.

 _Well_ , she mused somewhat wistfully, _it’ll be nice enough while it lasts_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their tension and adrenaline-fueled lust comes to a raging head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: nsfw, mild dubious consent, implied violence, please take this as your warning.

They stood opposite each other; breaths coming in rushed pants and cheeks flushed from exertion. The bodies of their enemies - nameless henchmen who could barely shoot straight - littered the bloodied ground around them. Her mind roared with the triumph, yet she knew their defeat heralded the start of a fresh battle. 

John Seed stood a few feet away from her, skin similarly flushed yet his eyes were fixed firmly on her. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, not breaking his stare, and his teeth flashed in a grin when he noticed she was finally looking at him again.

“Well,” he broke their panting silence, pushing his shoulders back in a stretch or maybe even a preening flex, “that was certainly… _bracing.”_

She scoffed but to her own ears, it sounded more like a laugh. 

“That’s certainly one word for it,” she replied, voice hoarse. She watched him carefully, gaze flicking down to the knife still clutched in his hand; stained now with the blood of their fallen. “So what now?” 

His eyes lowered to her chest, yet there was no heat in them. 

“Unless you’re ready to confess your sins, Deputy…” His eyes narrowed. “Our alliance may be at an end.” 

Rook grinned, a cheshire cat all at once. 

“Oh, it’s definitely at an end,” she said, without missing a beat. The gun in her hand - a heavy, awkward thing she’d taken from the first man she’d tackled - was aimed towards him as a precaution, her finger resting idly by the trigger. 

John hummed, but didn’t make any movements to attack her or flee. 

“A pity,” he sighed, smiling at her almost kindly. “We did make a good pair.” He chuckled softly. “Though, I always knew we would.”

She rolled her eyes at the double entendre. 

“A common enemy will always do that,” Rook replied, humouring him somewhat. His eyes narrowed, a heat returning to his gaze as he almost stared through her. 

“And the Collapse?” He asked, tilting his head at her in genuine curiosity. “Is that not an enemy? Will you not ally yourself with us for it too?” He gave another smile, though it looked more a grimace. “Is it because you can’t shoot it? Because you can’t gouge yourself in your fury with this enemy?” 

She scoffed, yet the Wrath tattoo on her chest prickled at the mention of her sin. 

“No, that’s not it at all, sorry to disappoint,” Rook replied scathingly, shuffling in her position. “I just don’t trust in the word of a madman.” 

His expression hardened, and she could see his hand that held his knife - well, _her_ knife actually - twitch visibly at the insult to his revered brother. A smile tugged at his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he raised the knife to gesture at her, as he had once used a screwdriver to do when she was bound in his bunker.

“ _You_  will not insult the Father,” John told her evenly, though his voice stuttered over his brother’s title. “Not _you.”_

She smiled, and it was not a nice smile. 

“Strike a nerve, Johnny?” She asked, flashing cheshire teeth. “What are you gonna do about it, huh?” 

In retrospect, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to poke this particular bear.

He came stalking towards her, and she instinctively raised her weapon in defense. He faltered, giving her a glance and snarling as he tossed his own knife to the side and continued forward. His action gave her pause, enough hesitance for him to take advantage of and move her weapon to the side as he pushed her back against the truck hood behind her. 

She gasped, the surprise making her drop the heavy gun and her hands flew to his shoulders as a brace. Rook glanced at him, slow on the uptake and frowned. 

“John, the fuck”- He hoisted her up onto the hood behind her and slotted himself between her legs, and she was suddenly physically reminded that their close proximity in the car boot had had a very _strained_ effect on her enemy turned temporary ally. She sharply drew in a breath at him pressing up against her; her thin jeans doing little to muffle the hardness rocking where it felt disturbingly _right._

And she was going to have to examine _that_ particular response later, when she was safe and tucked away. 

“Such a filthy mouth, Deputy,” John whispered, cupping her cheek and pressing against her lip with his thumb. “Shall we find a better use for it?”

Her eyes narrowed and her thighs tightened around his waist, pushing him towards her. 

“Stick your dick in my mouth and I’ll use teeth,” Rook growled, grinning at him. “Though I feel like you’d just get off on that.”

He raised an eyebrow but his lip quirked.

“Temper, temper,” he all but sang, pushing his thumb between her lips gently. “Shall we teach you the consequences of wrath, darling?” 

She glared at him but flicked her tongue forward to brush against him teasingly, sweet and sensual, before nipping with her teeth; a cougar once more. He hissed and withdrew the finger, running it down along her jaw and wrapping his fingers to frame the curve of her neck. Not to choke, necessarily, but enough of a physical reminder that he could, should he decide to. 

“You do love to play with fire, don’t you?” John murmured, reaching to grab at her thighs and sharply roll his hips against hers. She gasped, her own hand flying to his hip, unsure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer at the thrill that pulsed through her. He grinned at her response, leaning down to mouth at the side of her neck, nipping her in a tease, retribution for her own teeth.

She hissed and jerked away, but her grip on his hips remained tight and she rolled up against him with a vengeance and fury about her. 

“Get the fuck on with it, Seed,” Rook growled, ever the wild thing, “because I don’t fancy someone seeing us.” 

He glanced at her, blinking as though he suddenly realised that they were still very much out in the open. Then a grin spread across his lips slowly, and she wondered how much leverage she had just inadvertently given him. 

“Is that Pride, I spy, Deputy?” John asked, even while his fingers dropped to the buttons on her pants. “Ashamed of being in cohorts with your enemy?” 

She reached forward and grabbed his belt, trying to tug it down. 

“Do you ever shut up?” She muttered, pulling his head down to her and meeting him in a rough kiss; her lips wide in something that might have been a smile or a snarl. 

They wasted little time; unzipping enough for access but not aesthetic appeal. Her nails dug into his shoulders and bicep, angled as claws to scrap at his skin when he slid two fingers inside her. She was tight and not nearly ready enough, but she paid him the discomfort back with talons and teeth, scratching at him in retribution. 

“ _Behave_ , you wild woman,” John hissed, shoulder jerking at her attack and his fingers twitched inside her. She bared her teeth at him in a growl, and he made a sound in his throat - a moan or a whine - and leaned down to capture her mouth again in a savage kiss. 

Another finger joined the others inside her, and she rocked her hips up along them; walls clenching. His hands weren’t as calloused as what she imagined Jacob’s would be, but they weren’t lotion smoothed either, and were rough enough to keep her sensitive and aware of every twitch and brush. 

He stretched her, pushing her wide for him.

“I’m going to have you shaking,” John whispered, burying himself down to the crook of her neck and mouthing at the area just under the collar of her shirt. “ _Dripping._  Squealing for me.” 

Her body had certainly caught up with the uptake, and he was well on the way to achieving dripping. She reached down and pushed at his hand, bucking at him with her hips. 

“Then hurry up and fuck me,” Rook growled, knocking against his thigh with her leg. “Or I’ll find someone who will.” He slowed, removing his hand and it was with a grin that she realised his expression has steeled slightly. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you? Little Johnny feeling _jealous_?”

He met her eyes and there was an unreadable expression in them, and Rook felt the strange prickling on her skin as a warning.

“You know,” she murmured, still unable to resist, “I hear Envy’s a sin.”

She squealed in shock as she was thrown to the side of the car, her hands flying out to steady her against the hood surface. His torso flattened her down, pressing a hand to the back of her neck to keep her chin to the car as he lined himself up with her entrance. 

“You have such a wilful tongue, my dear,” John purred in her ear, but there was an anger, a wrath behind his words, “but let’s silence it for now, shall we?” 

He pushed inside her, and her hands clenched into fists at the stretch. She wanted to crane her neck backwards in an arch, but his hand was firm and his torso prevented any real movement. Instead, she was just barely able to see her reflection in the hood’s surface, and could see how her eyes were wide and lips parted in shock. 

John wasn’t a patient man, and soon began to rock back and forth inside her. Her teeth gripped onto her lower lip, sucking it inwards at the rough thrusts that rocked her forwards. He pulled her jeans further down her thighs, making them bunch above her knees and keep her legs restrained. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He muttered in her ear, huffing out a laugh through his laboured breath. “To be bent over and-” he broke off to give her another series of harsh thrusts, each one punctuated by her shocked cries - “shown where you belong?” 

She couldn’t help but laugh at his words, even while she could barely string a sentence together. 

“Where I belong?” Rook repeated, rocking back into his thrust as much as she could from her position. “Under you?” She jerked her head out from his hand, and glanced up at him from over her shoulder. “Or under _anyone?”_

He nipped at her skin with too-sharp teeth, and she could have sworn she heard a growl as he sped up, rocking inside her and grinding upwards with every movement. 

Her fingers scratched against the truck for purchase, but there was none forthcoming, and her thighs tried to clench together to alleviate the ache inside her. A litany of pants fell from her open mouth, and her head fell back, and she was able to see John staring down intently at her; focused on her flushed expression almost to a manic state. 

“You know exactly where you belong,” he murmured, half to himself. “For me.” His hand traced the line of her spine, a sharp contrast to the harsh jerks of his hips. “All for me.” 

She was close to whining now; a drawn out moan coming from the back of her throat as he pushed her closer to the edge. The steadily building pressure was rising with each scrape of him inside her, and her walls clenched tightly with the familiar sense of the impending fall. It was surprising for her, considering she couldn’t remember the last time she’d managed to reach the edge from just being stretched wide on a cock, but John was determined to make a mark. 

“Fuck!” She hissed, hands clenching and unclenching into fists, squirming as she felt herself rapidly approaching her end. 

John wasn’t far behind her, hand grasping her hip and pushing himself as deep as he could; giving shallow but hard, rolling thrusts that had her squealing in an embarrassingly high voice. 

“ _Johnny!”_ Rook cried out and then suddenly gasped as he stilled behind her, twitching inside and filling her in a rush. Her mind flashed in panic, but it still set her off, making her arch forward and crease her brow in surprise as she came, writhing around him in waves. She couldn’t help but rock back against him, even while he recovered and her tightness milked the final drops of his release to spill inside her. 

She collapsed and leaned against the car for support, panting and begrudgingly relishing in the warmth of him behind and above her. He didn’t stay for long, pulling out of her and leaning back to watch as his seed leaked onto her thighs. 

“I like you like this, Deputy,” John commented, being strangely helpful as he encouraged her to straighten and began to pull up her jeans and underwear. 

Rook frowned, uncomfortable at the wetness being smeared against her, and she reached down to try and brush him away, but his free hand immediately flew to her throat. There was no pressure, but it was enough to make her freeze. 

“What the fuck now, John?” She hissed, irritated and tender after his thorough treatment. 

“You walk away with my cum stuffing you full like it should,” he growled, words filthy and low, “or you don’t walk free at all.” 

She scoffed, and the fingers tightened ever so slightly around her neck. 

“You mean you’re actually considering letting me go?” Rook asked skeptically, surprisingly calm in his grip. 

“But of course,” John replied in a soft and musical voice. “You go one way, I’ll go the other. No catch.” He hummed, as though in an afterthought. “Well…one catch. You’ll stay full of me…and then when you finally stumble across someone, friend or foe, you can squirm in front of them because you know you’re _dripping_ with me.” 

Against her will, the image made her flush and she let out a shaky breath. 

“Fine,” she ground out between her teeth, praying that her voice was even. “But you’ll be paying child support if you knock me up.” 

It was meant as a joke - she knew Adelaide probably had a stash of emergency morning-after pills lying around somewhere that she could nab - but the resulting deathly silence behind her was concerning. Yet it was his final words to her that set her most on edge; unnerving her even as she stumbled with a recovered gun into the wild. 

“If I… “knock you up”,” he’d murmured, quoting her with a strange twist of his lips, “then you won’t be leaving my side again, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> knock me up too pls johnny


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unexpected news throws a spanner in Rook's _and John's plans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Pregnancy, implied future kidnapping? Some explicit language as well.

It was positive. 

Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Sweet ever-loving fuck, it was positive. 

Rook double checked with the flimsy key on the back of the cheap pregnancy test she’d managed to filch from one of the gas stations. She read it once, she read it again and once more, willing the words to change. 

“ _ Fuck,” _ she cursed, throwing the plastic test on the ground and clenching her fists. She paced back and forth inside the cubicle of the Spread Eagle, fingers clawing at her scalp as the gravity of the whole situation set in. “Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ.” 

She leaned against the wall of the bathroom, tilting her head back as she looked up at the ceiling and tried to take a few deep breaths. The muffled thrumming of country rock vibrated around her, and she bit her lip out of sheer frustration. It was hard to seriously ponder any serious life decisions with the nasally voice of John Denver as a backing track. 

The door swung open outside the cubicle. 

“Dep?” It was Mary-May. 

Without even thinking, Rook immediately stomped down hard on the plastic test lying discarded on the ground, her boot cracking the thing in half, and she twisted her ankle just to make sure of her work.

“Woah!” Hearing the sound, Mary-May took a step forward and knocked on the door. “Shit, Dep, everything alright in there? A few guys said they heard shouting in here.” There was a few seconds of silence, Rook fumbling with her words and coming up short. “I...What’s going on?” 

Rook froze, unsure what to say. She gulped and then tried to clear her throat, to at least acknowledge her friend. 

“I’m..uh...yeah, no I’m fine,” Rook answered, to put her friend at ease somewhat. She glanced down at the scattered pieces of plastic on the ground. “I’ve just...I’ve just gotta deal with something.” 

Because how the fuck was she supposed to tell Mary-May that she was pregnant with John Seed’s baby? That would be a charming experience. Rook was sure they’d all be glowing with congratulations, they’d laugh merrily and drink cups of tea and gush about how well pregnancy suited her. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic. 

“Okay,” Mary-May replied slowly, evidently unconvinced but not willing to pry. “Well, alright. You just...just call me if you need.” 

Rook heard dragging footsteps back to the door and then let out a sigh of relief as she heard it swing shut. She dropped to a couch and hurriedly picked up the scattered pieces of broken plastic, dumping them in the toilet bowl and flushing them as quickly as she could. Thankfully, no trace of the double pink stripes remained when she exited the washroom. 

Mary-May gave her a questioning glance, but Rook brushed her away with a dismissive wave, a gesture of “nothing to worry about,” even though it was a goddamn lie. She finished her drink - she insisted on a soda, claiming she needed to drive - and made the short trip to the Ryes’ house. 

They always had a spare bed for her, they’d said, and damn it, but if she was pregnant, then she was spending a night under some decent sheets. 

She wasn’t sure whether she should be frustrated or relieved to see Sharky’s car in the Ryes’ front yard. He was enamoured with the family; their unconditional kindness meaning that he was eager to spend time with them. For their part, the Ryes’ would welcome nearly anyone. Rook remembered hearing how the Ryes’ would host the cult members for open BBQs, even when the first rumours had started spreading. That was just Nick and Kim; you were golden until proven otherwise. 

For a brief second, she even considered telling _them_. 

“Hi, Nick! Kim! I’m carrying the spawn of John Seed!” She’d say and maybe have about five seconds before they called Jerome to come perform an exorcism on her. 

Yeah, that wasn’t happening. 

“Po-po!” She heard Sharky call out, and glanced around the yard to see him waving her over. He was standing disturbingly close to the BBQ as Nick was cooking up some sort of meat, and the pilot held up a spatula-wielding hand in greeting while Sharky grinned at her. “Here for some sausages?” 

She grimaced, and briefly brushed a hand across her lower stomach, noting that she’d had her fair share of sausages for the next nine months. 

“Also got some steak,” Nick piped up, using some tongs to flip the meat on the grill. “Plenty to go round!” 

She came over to the area, peering down at their work and feeling a responding rumble in her stomach. Guess she  _ was  _ going to join them for dinner. 

On the road behind her, the Resistance patrols and nearby check-point warded off any cult stragglers, which meant that the Ryes’ were some of the lucky few able to stay in their home...generally safe for the time being. Unless a mass force of cultists were seriously determined to attack them, they could be somewhat relaxed. 

“We’re almost done,” Nick told her, shoveling some of the meat onto a paper-towel covered plate that Sharky was dutifully carrying. “Just gotta wait for this last steak. Kim’s inside with the salad if you wanna say hi.” 

Kim, it turned out, had been finished with the salad for over half an hour. 

“How much meat does Nick think we need?” Kim asked while she and Rook lounged on the sofas, soda cans in hand. “It’s like he thinks we’re trying to feed all of Falls End.” 

Rook shrugged, worrying at the label of her own drink with her thumb. 

“I mean, _I_   wasn’t expected,” she said. “I’m guessing Sharky wasn’t either.” 

“Oh, Sharky’s always expected.” Kim waved dismissively. “Practically lives here now. Never takes a room though, always insists on sleeping on the couch.” 

Sure enough, Rook glanced to the side and saw Sharky’s bag and shotgun resting at the side on the floor, making her frown. The couch was in direct sight of the road, which would leave him completely vulnerable at night if he wasn’t alert. 

Rook stiffened, and looked at Sharky’s car. He’d reverse-parked, even though he’d once complained to her about how much he hated doing so. The car nose faced the road but he’d taken the time to shift the machine gun so that it was forward; ready for incoming enemies. 

“He sleep in much?” She asked, taking a small sip of her drink. “In the mornings, I mean.” 

Kim scoffed. 

“So late; he’s like a teenage on weekends,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s like he’s not even getting any sleep at all during the night.” 

Rook hummed, but said nothing. 

Nick and Sharky joined them soon after, the smell of grilled meat wafting to the women from as far as the front porch. The meal was a welcomed affair, the four of them chatting merrily enough and providing a decent enough distraction for Rook and the raging thoughts of her current dilemma. Kim had even busted out some rare ice cream, and Rook had wondered whether vanilla had ever tasted sweeter. 

Every time she stayed with them, Rook swore that she wasn’t going to do it again; that she wasn’t going to abuse their hospitality any further. But fuck, it was a hard thing. The spare room had some of the softest sheets and a mattress she just sank into. 

Laying back, she was asleep nearly as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

She dreamed she was standing at the side of a crib, but when she leaned over, it was empty. She tried the door, but it was locked. She banged and kicked but it wouldn’t give, and the walls around her turned to cold, unforgiving steel. She knew, as one tends to know things in the illogical dreamscape, that she was underground. That she was in a  _ bunker.  _

Rook woke just as the steel door opened. 

Moonlight seeped in from the window, and she blearily stared out at the clear sky. It couldn’t have been earlier than three, but Rook knew there would be no more sleep. She wrapped herself in a blanket and plodded downstairs, footfalls soft against the staircase. 

She paused as she heard something being knocked over in the living room, and rolled her eyes as she came onto the ground floor and saw Sharky laying down, hands clasped under his head and the hint of a shotgun peering out from the side of the couch. Too-loud snores and snuffles came from his open mouth, and she shook her head.

“Don’t bother,” Rook murmured as she passed him and went into the kitchen, flicking the light on. “I know you’re awake.” 

The noises stopped, and from over the bench she saw his head peek up at her. 

“Want a hot chocolate?” She asked, setting the kettle to boil. He nodded, and she grabbed two cups. “So...babysitting Nick and Kim, are you?” 

“What? No!” He spluttered, peering over the back of the couch so he could look at her across the counter. “I’m…I’m…” He trailed off, and then hung his head. “I just...wanted to help.” 

She chuckled while she worked, tossing the teaspoon in the sink and making her way back around to her friend to hand him his drink. 

“Relax,” Rook said, taking a seat on the adjacent couch, tucking her legs up under her. “I don’t blame you; I’m pretty concerned about them living so far out of town.” 

“They’re  _ expecting _ !” Sharky added, earnest as he pushed aside the blanket on his lap. “And they’ve gotta get ready for the little one, and what if some peggies, they uh, they come knocking at their door? Except...well, with guns. Yeah, knocking with guns.” 

“Yeah... I know what you mean,” Rook said, glancing to the right to watch the quiet road. Every now and then, a Resistance patrol car went rumbling by. “Who knows what they’d do?” 

Sharky scoffed, sipping at his cup of hot chocolate before setting it down on the side table. 

“Besides, everyone knows Old Johnson was weird about Kim getting knocked up.” He rolled his eyes. “If he wants a kid that bad, he should just knock someone up himself. He’s probably got a bunch of followers who’d wriggle under his bedsheets - and gross, I just thought of him having sex, I don’t wanna think about that.” 

Her fingers were clenched tightly around the handle of her cup. Usually, she might have laughed at Sharky’s expression, but there wasn’t anything particularly funny about the situation. 

“John having a kid,” she said distractedly, tracing the rim of her mug with a finger. “It’s...a pretty weird thought.” 

“I mean, it’d be a pretty stacked kid though,” Sharky replied, leaning back down against the sofa armchair. “Johnson  _ did  _ steal all of Nick and Kim’s shit, so uhh, he’d be prepared.” He sat up, a grin spreading across his lips. “Hey...hey, imagine him changing a diaper.” 

That definitely brought a smile to her mouth, situation aside. 

“I don’t think he’d manage the lack of sleep.” Rook chuckled, and ran a hand over her brow, trying to rub away the weariness. 

Noticing her movement, her friend seemed to mellow. 

“Hey, uh...Dep? You alright?” He asked, turning over to face her properly. “Something on your mind?” 

When  _ wasn’t  _ there something on her mind lately? 

For a moment, she considered spilling the beans. At least to him. He was a good man, she knew she could trust him. Perhaps she wouldn’t even have to tell him the father’s name, just say it was some random person. Hell, he’d probably help her - he was already diligently watching over Nick and Kim’s house at night - and she couldn’t help but give a wry smile at the thought of his machine-gun mounted truck being packed to the brim with diapers and baby formula. 

But...it would come up. She knew it would. One way or the other, John Seed would find out. She knew he had tabs on her and her companions, and she knew he was a vicious man and full of more envy than he seemed willing to admit to. If he saw one of her known friends caring for her during a pregnancy, she knew exactly what assumptions he would make. 

And that wouldn’t bode particularly well for said friend. 

“I’ve got a lot of shit on my mind,” Rook finally replied to Sharky, and stood up; wrapping her blanket closer around her. “I think I’m going to go out to the hangar, get some fresh air.” 

He seemed to sense that something wasn’t right, but he didn’t press the issue.

“Well, alright. Gimme a yell if you need me,” was all he said. 

She paused on the bottom porch step, glancing towards her car where her bag still was stashed. A few moments of deliberation passed, her feet turned away but her neck craning back. Finally, she opened the car door and set her mug down carefully before rummaging in her bag for her handheld radio. 

It was time for a conversation. 

The hangar was silent - Nick having remembered to turn his speakers off for once - and Rook made herself comfortable on the couch. The radio was placed on her lap as she worried over what she was going to say. 

‘Congratulations, Joseph’s not the only one who’s a Father now’ somehow seemed a little inappropriate. 

Rook sighed, leaning back into the couch and bringing the radio closer to her. 

“Hello?” She said, testing. 

The night creatures sang in the background as she waited, wondering. It  _ was  _ late, but she’d have thought that John would have his radio close to him in case his brothers called. Perhaps he was a deep sleeper. It should have been strange for her, carrying a man’s child and having never slept beside him once. 

The radio clicked. 

“Deputy.” His voice was noticeably groggier than usual, and she didn’t doubt she’d woken him up. “Why, exactly, are you calling me at such an ungodly hour?” 

She was silent, tapping her foot softly against the floor. 

“I think...I think I need to tell you something,” Rook murmured, even though a neon warning light was flashing in her head. 

_ Don’t _ , it said.  _ You know how he’ll react _ .

This was an advantage to the cult. Rook wasn’t going to jump into battle when she was showing, and her friends weren’t going to let her even try once they knew her condition. The figurehead of the resistance force was off the field. And this was all not taking into account whether John knew or not. If he did, he wasn’t going to risk it either. 

But he  _ was  _ going to find out. If not now, then when she began to show. His birdies would whisper in his ear about the Deputy and how she was foolish enough to get knocked up - outside of marriage too! Oh, the sin! Would he immediately assume it was his? Or would his mind wander elsewhere, examining her list of allies and friends and wondering if she’d crawled under one of their sheets? 

The thought of having a child in this war-zone was frightening. She wasn’t sure how Kim was managing at all, and Rook so desperately wanted to confide, wanted to  _ confess  _ to someone. 

Because the Deputy, who’d had to be nothing but resolute and brave, was fucking  _ scared.  _

“A confession?” John replied to her, voice lifting in interest. “Colour me intrigued, dear. You know I am willing to receive all confessions and pass no judgement.” 

She wanted to scoff at him, but the words made something in her chest ache. She  _ wanted  _ to talk, and she wondered if she should have been ashamed at that. 

“I...I’m, uh...In some trouble,” Rook admitted, fingers tugging at the fraying stitch of the blanket she was wrapped in. 

He made a humming sound. 

“Go on,” John said coaxingly, and she could almost see him gesturing with his hands for her to continue. 

“There are...there are going to be some big changes in my life coming up,” she said, wincing at how vague she was deliberately being. “And um, I don’t know how my friends are going to take it.” She paused for a second, chewing her lip ever so slightly, before muttering, “ I don’t know how  _ you’re  _ going to take it.” 

He was silent for a moment, perhaps trying to decode her words. 

“And why would I play a part in your worries?” He asked, voice careful as perhaps even he could sense a ball was about to drop. 

Her hand was shaking, and she dropped the radio to her lap, knees bouncing slightly. Suddenly a rush of anger came over her, the wrath he so loved to project onto her boiling underneath her skin, and she whipped her hand back closer to her mouth. 

“You knew this would happen, you piece of  _ shit,”  _ she hissed through the radio, standing up and allowing the blanket to fall back onto the couch. “You knew, or maybe you just didn’t give a flying fuck, because you don’t, do you?” Oh no, it was happening, the babbling had begun and she couldn’t stop it. “Little Johnny is such a conceited asshole that he doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself, isn’t that right? You don’t care how many lives you ruin just to get what you want.”

He was surprisingly silent throughout her tirade, waiting until she’d taken a break before replying. 

“Do you feel better now, Deputy?” John asked, calm in contrast to herself. “Such wrath, bubbling under the surface, is never good for one’s soul, don’t you agree? Doesn’t it feel... _ freeing  _ to have it off your chest now?” 

“Were you listening at all, you narcissistic fuck?” Rook scowled. “This is all your fucking fault, and now  _ I  _ have to deal with the consequences.  _ You  _ don’t have to do anything. No, all you had to do was wriggle your cock around in a hole for a bit and now - surprise! You get exactly what you fucking want.” 

“You do have a foul mouth, don’t you?” He sighed, and she wondered if she heard something of exasperation in his tone. “If I’m interpreting that tirade correctly, am I to assume that”-

She cut him off before he could finish.

“Yeah, you’re going to be a father. Yipee for you, fucker,” Rook said, sitting back down on the couch and tucking her knees up underneath her chin. Even though he couldn’t see it, she sneered. “ _ Congrats.”  _

He was quiet, and despite her anger, she couldn’t deny feeling a morbid sort of curiosity as to how he was taking the news. Was he smug, as she’d thought? Was he excited? Was he scared, as she was? 

“Where are you?” John asked after a long pause. 

She barked out a laugh.

“Oh, honey, I don’t think so,” she replied, shaking her head. “Let me get one thing straight; just because we fucked, just because I’m...having this kid, it doesn’t mean that we’re suddenly pals or that I’m willing to let you have any sort of role in raising my child.” She took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing. “Forgive me if I’m much more willing to rely on my friends for help than a fucking cultist.” 

“Oh? And do your friends know who the father is?” He asked. Her silence was damning, and he gave a gasp, theatrical and cruel. “Do they know at  _ all? _ ” 

“That’s not what I was talking”- She began, but it was his turn to cut her off.

“Oh dear, what will they think?” He asked, something venomous underneath his words. His voice dropped, lower and serious. “If you think to keep my child from me, then everyone from all corners of this county will know exactly who the father is.” 

She laughed, even though the words should have frightened her. 

“And who the fuck is going to believe you, huh?” She shook her head, marveling at the audacity of him. “Everyone knows you spread those shitty rumours about Kim’s baby; everyone’s just going to assume you’re doing the exact same thing for me.” 

It was karma, she hoped, that meant those particular lies could be easily combated, if he ever came through on those threats. A twisted sort of boy who cried wolf now being her saving grace.

“Come with me.” His voice was surprisingly strained, pleading almost. “I can take care of you,  _ both  _ of you.  _ Please _ , darling. I can keep you safe.” He paused for a brief second, and she could imagine him finding the words while wearing that fervent, near-manic expression she’d seen only once before. “This is the only way, and we’ll walk through the gates together after the Collapse; a proper family in the new Eden.” 

She jolted at that, standing once more as a rush of renewed fury came over her.

“A family? Do you even hear yourself?” Rook shook her head, rubbing her brow with one hand. “You just tried to  _ blackmail  _ me! Why the fuck do you think I’m even going to want to tell you anything about my kid after this, let alone ‘walk through the gates’ with you?” She was shaking, she realised belatedly as she glanced down and saw her hand trembling. 

It was a strange mix of her anger, coupled with her fear - fear of doing this alone, of raising a child in this war-zone - and something else. Something shameful, buried as deep as she could manage. Something that made her _want_ to go and join John, as he’d asked, disregarding all the work she’d done against him. Something inside her that wanted to be taken _care_ of; the deep-seeded dream she’d carried from youth of wanting a family, of craving the American dream of a loving partner, children and a white picket fence. 

John Seed wasn’t that, but his words were trying to convince her he was. That was his job, she tried to tell herself. He made a living off lying. She knew that but still a part of her wanted to almost believe him. 

“I said it before, didn’t I?” He said, softer now with something resigned in his voice. “We make a good pair, you and I.” 

He hummed, and she wondered in a strange moment of fascination what his expression was in that instant. 

“I will be selfish, darling,” John murmured, and his voice was so earnest, so  _ genuine _ that she wanted so badly to believe it. “Come to me when the world is burning. Come to me, and I will be selfish. Come to me...and I will let you through the gate.” 

She turned the radio off. 

The sun was beginning to rise by the time she returned to the house. The door creaked as she opened it, bee-lining for the kitchen. Her friend jerked awake on the couch, lurching upright with a garbled noise and blinking wearily at her. 

“You good, Po-Po?” Sharky asked, voice groggy. 

She left the kitchen mug in the sink, still half full and put her blanket on the couch.

“Just peachy,” Rook replied, nodding at him before heading towards the door. “Hey, can you thank Nick and Kim for me?” 

He frowned. 

“I mean...yeah,” Sharky said, voice unsure. “But...what’s going on?” 

She quickly threw her shoes on and opened the door, giving him a smile from the entryway. 

“I’ve got some stuff I need to deal with,” she replied, and waved goodbye. “Take care of them for me, Sharky.” 

By the time the sun had risen fully, Rook was halfway to the mountains; Boomer in the backseat and cultists serenading her through the radio of the world ending and the gates to Eden being barred shut. 

  
  
  



End file.
